


The Skin that Crawls From You

by Illuminahsti



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo (Penumbra) [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Affirmation, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Body Image, Kisses, Other, Peter is having a bad day, body image issues are mild but obviously that's a CW, discussions of aging, most of it is aggressively tender, naps, peter is a silver fox and I will fight you on this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 20:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illuminahsti/pseuds/Illuminahsti
Summary: Peter has a bad day, Juno comforts himFor the Bad Things Happen Bingo, prompt: Body Image Issues





	The Skin that Crawls From You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissjuliaMiriam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissjuliaMiriam/gifts).



Peter returned to his apartment late in the afternoon, long before Juno was supposed to return. He was out with Vespa, doing something exciting and dangerous without Peter, while Peter stayed in the Ionian capital and sold stolen jewels to pay their rent.

He swallowed down the unexpected wave of bitterness as he stripped down to his undershirt and headed for the bathroom. It was long past time he touched up the grey in his roots, but he had gotten lazy recently. It seemed so easy to be lazy around Juno, not because Juno didn’t care, but because he made it easy to forget that Peter should still be performing. Maybe it was true that he had let himself go a bit, but that could be forgiven. They had been distracted by their new jobs, new planet, new and private apartment.

He turned on his music as loud as it would go, retrieved his hair dye from under the sink, and pulled on the latex gloves.

Dying his hair meant that he had to look in the mirror for the fifteen minutes that it took to apply the dye, an activity he did not relish. He was forced to study the way his crow’s feet were getting too deep for makeup to cover, the way the lines of his jaw were getting softer. He resolved to visit a clinic for a touch up as soon as possible. It was just so easy to forget when he had other things to do with his time. 

* * *

By the time Juno got home, it was dark outside. Peter had showered and dressed for him, and sat on the couch, trying to occupy himself with research for his next heist.

Juno smiled tiredly, and Peter looked him over for visible injuries.

“Hey,” Juno said. “How did it go today?”

Peter shrugged. “He wasn’t buying. And you?” he deflected.

“He never showed up,” Juno said. “So it looks like he’s not home very often and we can probably go by whenever we want. Have you eaten?”

“I believe I forgot.”

Juno crossed the kitchen and tilted Peter’s face up for a kiss. “You smell like grapes,” he said. “Did you dye your hair?”

“It was long past time.”

Juno laughed a little. “I don’t know, I kind of like your greys.” He opened the fridge, casually, as if the compliment was a genuine and easy one to give, and not the sort of thing he only said because he was required to.

“That’s kind of you to say,” Peter deflected.

“It makes you look like a professor or something.” Juno opened a beer and pulled a mess of vegetables out of the fridge.

Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he focused on the floor plan he was attempting to memorize, trying to drown out the memory of his earlier conversations. Some washed up twink past his prime, the sneering man at the jewelry store had called him. It had stung, far more than he expected. His beauty had always been constructed, built on careful adherence to local fashion and an eye for color. That was what most beauty was. It was a rare person, who actually looked attractive when they didn’t carefully manage their appearance, when they didn’t analyze which shapes hid all the unflattering planes of their body. Beauty was constructed. Peter had always accepted that fact, and the fact that his beauty required time and effort. Now, however, faced with the realization that he had slipped up, that people had seen through his façade, he felt unmoored. If he lost his looks, he lost his edge. He lost a good portion of his value, as a lover, as a con man, as a member of their team. 

* * *

Juno chatted about his stakeout for a little bit over dinner before they lapsed back into silence. Juno’s quiet was something Peter valued about him, both that he didn’t need to fill the space and that he really listened when Peter spoke. Tonight, Peter wanted to talk, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that would drown out the whispers in his head. Instead, they finished dinner and watched TV, Juno’s head in Peter’s lap. Juno fell asleep halfway through an episode of a soap opera, snoring softly through the screaming and crying.

Peter watched him fondly, his fingers tangled with Juno’s, as the TV faded to the background for him too.

Juno woke with a start in the silence after the episode ended.

“Did I really fall asleep?”

“I believe so.”

Juno rubbed his face. “Ah shit Pete, I think I’ve gotten old, falling asleep before midnight.”

The words left Peter feeling slightly nauseous. He stared at his hands as Juno got up and stretched.

“You think you can handle dating an old man?” He asked. “Next thing you know I’ll be drinking prune juice and going to bingo nights.”

The image was so absurd that it startled a laugh out of Peter. Juno chuckled self-deprecatingly and left for the bedroom without waiting for an answer. 

* * *

When they were both in bed, with the only light being the blue neon leaking through a crack in the curtains, Peter finally let himself speak.

“Do you mind... getting old?”

Juno made a small confused noise. “I don’t know. Never expected to make it this far. Never expected to be happy. So I feel like I’m starting fresh right now.”

“Ah.” Peter wished that he could feel the same way, but the fear still gripped him. He tried, as he has tried all day, to get rid of the sick feeling in his chest.

Juno’s breathing deepened, crept towards sleep. Peter summoned up every bit of humility he had access to and asked, “did you mean what you said, about liking my grey hair?”

It took Juno a long time to answer. “What’s this about?”

“Juno—“ his voice came out pleading. He bit his tongue.

“Yeah,” Juno said, and he shifted closer in bed, turned Peter’s head towards him so they could look at each other in the dim light. “Of course I meant it.”

“Even if it means... I’m not...”

When Peter gave up on trying to speak, Juno kissed him. “This is really bothering you, huh?” he asked, when he pulled away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for joking about it,” he answered.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said. “I just... had a bad day.”

“Did someone say something? I’ll beat them up if I have to—“

“No, Juno, I’ll never have to see him again. He just stirred up my own fears.”

Juno kissed him again. “I don’t know if it helps, but I’m excited to get old with you, because it means we have a lot of years in front of us.”

Peter sighed. “It does, a little.”

“And I think you’re hot pretty much all the time. I love your grey hair—“ a kiss landed on Peter’s temple, “and your crow’s feet—” and on his cheekbone, “and when you have morning breath and your hair is standing on end—“ on the corner of his mouth, “and when you’re vain and try to pretend all of that isn’t happening—“ a long, lingering kiss on his lips, “and I especially love when it’s dark and just the two of us and it doesn’t matter what we look like at all.”

Peter clung to Juno, let him trail kisses down his neck, let the words sink into his bones. He felt, for a moment, like he couldn’t breathe under the weight of Juno’s affection.

“Juno...” he groaned.

Juno looked up and met Peter’s eyes.

“Kiss me,” he begged.

Juno did, his hands roaming over Peter’s body like a grounding reminder of what his body could do, could feel.

“I love you,” Juno whispered, their limbs tangled so tight against each other that Peter could barely feel the bounds of his own body. They fell asleep like that, one entity, liquid bones and the heat of a shared heart.

**Author's Note:**

> To Be Alone is my favorite song of all time and I reserve the rights to use the lyrics for many more stories


End file.
